


Where the Long Grass Blows

by cschoolgirl



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Smut, shipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cschoolgirl/pseuds/cschoolgirl
Summary: Logan, Marie, and a wagon train.
Relationships: Logan/Rogue (X-Men)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank yous to Nebelwerfer42 and RogueLotus for indulging me on this one. Maybe someday I will get to that third part, for now we get the smut and happy ending. Title is borrowed from a Louis L'Amour book.
> 
> * * *

It was a pleasant spot, the hollow. Two days it had taken them to lower all the twenty plus wagons over the hill and into this place. Days of hard work with the only reward at the end of it a day of rest. 

Not exactly rest, but it was as close to it as Marie was going to get on the trail. Fresh water, a luxury after the silty, stagnant water of the Platte, and newly laundered clothes were worth it. Then there were the trees; big, tall trees that they hadn’t seen away from the river. She didn’t know she would miss trees so much. 

Here she could be free of her mother’s disapproval and lay back in the grass and stare at the evening sky. She’d picked out the perfect place, the clump of trees and the tall grass would hide her from the casual observer. The temptation to sleep out here, away from the wagons and the complaints of her mother, was great but she knew for her own safety she couldn’t. 

Tomorrow they were leaving and it would be sometime before they reached South Pass and headed on to Oregon. The West was supposed to be the family’s chance to escape the growing politics of the States. Uncle Thomas and her father had planned this out. Wagons with goods would head West to set up a new business in hopes the rest of the family would be able to join them in a couple of years. 

Actually, Marie was glad to be away from the South. When she was younger she could ignore grown-up talk, but at seventeen with several men interested in courting, she’d had to turn her mind to adult pursuits full time. While the younger men were still about fancy parties and chivalry, the men her father’s and grandfather’s age talked about politics and business. Those discussion interested her more than the young men or her mother’s constant gossip circle. 

Back East their life had been comfortable with the family’s prosperous import business and storefront. However, politics had invaded even their lives and her father was wary of the changes coming. Cousin Nathaniel had been dispatched to the West to return with a favorable report. 

In the end, almost a dozen family-owned wagons set out from Independence in April. The loads had been carefully balanced with trade goods and what little personal belongings they could take. Marie’s mother had been depressed at the lack of clothing allowed and the pure simpleness of the outfits for the trail. Cousin Nathaniel’s wife Rebecca was eager for the adventure once he convinced her that no one would care who her parents were or where she was from. 

At first, Marie had been caught up in the excitement of all the activity. As they settled into the routine of the wagons headed West, she’d lost some of the exuberance, especially with her cooking skills. Her grandmother had made sure she knew how to cook early on but she’d never cooked over a campfire and it was proving to be a challenge. Gramps gave her a few pointers and she’d asked some of the other women as they walked beside the trail during the day. It was simple fare, but a decent meal at the end of a long day was important. 

The light breeze picked up as the sun set. It rustled the leaves in the trees and made a lovely accompaniment to the crickets that had begun chirping. The sounds of the night added distance to the noise of the camp activities. Marie found the quiet blissful. 

Before long, she realized she wasn’t alone. Carefully she looked around, unable to spot the intruder. That in and of itself made her heart soar. There was only one person that could be close by and remain unseen or heard. Logan.

She sensed the movement before she saw it, as he hid in plain sight. Obviously, he’d wanted his presence made known to her. He had a way of being completely silent and overly hard to detect, more so than even the older mountain man in the company. 

“Ma’am,” he greeted her with that deep voice of his. She half expected him to tip his hat as he usually did around camp, but he wore none this evening.  
Logan was one of the scouts that had joined them after they’d crossed the Missouri. A tall man with broad shoulders and wild hair, the youngest of the scouts. The others were what one would expect of mountain men with their long beards, but Logan didn’t wear a beard, only sideburns, and that set him apart. 

Marie’s mother couldn’t see past his seasoned buckskins and would find herself well enough to walk about and gossip after a day's rest in the wagon to be away from him. (How she could stay in the wagon was beyond Marie, as the wagons tended to jolt and jar every bone in the body.) Her father, on the other hand, surmised that Logan was of gentry and possibly well educated. He was able to talk ancient history with her grandfather and certain books with the rest of the men. His manners were excellent around the women, better than she’d seen since leaving the Southern social structure behind. 

A stray thought crossed her mind; she should be embarrassed, not only for the impropriety of being out alone with a man in her general vicinity but also she wasn’t dressed properly. Every last stitch of clothing had been set out to dry including her undergarments. All she had on was an old petticoat and corset cover that was worn threadbare. (Marie had quit wearing her corset more and more, much to her mother’s dismay.)

It looked as though Logan had taken the time to wash also. His normal buckskin pants were replaced by a lighter pair with no fringe, it took her a moment to realize that he was shirtless, as if she might have interrupted his quiet evening. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to…” her voice trailed off as her eyes caught sight of his straight razor. He watched with amusement as they darted to his bag hanging from a branch then his horse further away, staked out for the night. 

“No, it’s fine.” He spent his time alone in the wilderness, and it tended to make a man wild, uncivilized. That was something he didn’t need help with. Even her with the people of the wagon train he remembered there was a different way. Not that he wanted to go back to high society, even at a young age it had been nothing but trouble. But being around people was good for a man once in a while. 

It reminded him of the books he’d read and his father’s evening discussions with others. A world lost to him one fateful night. He didn’t regret leaving it behind, the wilderness was a better fit for him anyway. Yet being around Marie set off a yearning deep inside himself he hadn’t felt before. Maybe not a grand house like he was raised in, but a small, cozy cabin in the mountains where they could set up a home. 

Glancing at her again, as tempting as she was, he best leave her be. Marie had many qualities that would bring her an advantageous marriage. One that would set her up as she deserved. She didn’t need to be tied to a man that was still deciphering what he was and how he fit into the world. 

“Night Miss,” he said putting his razor in the bag. 

Marie frantically searched for a reason to keep him from leaving. During the previous two months, the highlight of her days had become the evening meal when Logan came to their campfire to eat. They had only a handful of conversations but his presence never failed to bring a longing to her bones. A craving for the country as wild as him.

“Tell me about the Western mountains,” she finally said as he pulled his bag from the branch. 

The muscles across his back rippled with tension as he hesitated a moment. Maybe she’d misread the looks he’d sent her way, they’d made her flush just thinking about what thoughts might be behind such a look. Despite her apprehension, a heat pooled between her thighs, a reaction completely new to her. 

Inhaling deeply, he tamped down the feral instincts that surfaced with the thickening of her scent. What he was about to do was inappropriate and against all the rules of the society she was a part of. 

“They're not like the rolling mountains back East,” he said taking a step toward her. At some point, as he told her about the trail ahead and the wilderness they would encounter on the way to Oregon, he’d forgotten his bag. Worse still, he’d forgotten his manners and crouched down beside her using a low voice as to not attract the attention of the few individuals that had wandered out from camp. 

She was half reclined, listening intently to his every word. This was the first time he could remember his feral side being content. Oh, it poked at him for more, but there was no fierce roaring in him. The feral part of him wanted this woman as much as he did and was willing to stalk this prey. If he needed to be patient to claim this one as his mate then he would have an overabundance of patience. 

He was doing well as long as he kept his eyes focused on the piece of grass in his hands. Otherwise, he would see her nipples, hard from the cool breeze, pressed against the fabric of her top, or the way the thin cotton material of her petticoat clung to her lush curves. God help him, he wanted to touch her, wanted to feel her smooth skin underneath his fingertips. 

The camp was turning in for the night and Logan was about to pull away so she could return, it wouldn’t be good for her to stay out any longer. She must have sensed what he was going to do as she was suddenly on her knees beside him, her hand on his bare arm. They were both showing too much skin for who she was. 

This was the wrong place and time, even his feral side was completely quiet. Marie wasn’t one of the women in the gold camps or one found in the red light districts. She was a lady with a reputation to be safeguarded. 

Again she was afraid he was going to leave and moved to stop him. The hand on his arm was improper yet he made her feel more alive than any of those dandies that had come calling back home. Logan’s presence put a fire into her that kept her warm even after the coolness of the night had set in. She knew she could never tame the wildness in him, but she sought to hold it close to her, to have just a taste of it while she could. 

His skin was hot to the touch, the heat radiating from him, helping to warm her. She was fascinated at the goosebumps that rose up on his arm as she moved her hand further up to his shoulder. In the darkness she noticed that there was no tan line, meaning he often went without his shirt. What would it be like to watch him work around a cabin half-dressed? A place to themselves where propriety could be forgotten and they could be like this whenever they wished. 

“Marie, we…” He should tell her that they shouldn’t, but her scent was enticing, luring him in, making him hard with need. She nodded in understanding, though she didn’t seem to care as her hand traveled to his neck pulling him in for a kiss.

Kissing had never been high on his list of priorities when it came to sex. He was beginning to wonder why when he became lost in the softness of her mouth, the slide of his tongue against hers. Thinking was becoming hard with the blood pounding in his ears. 

Marie continued to pull until she was caged in by his muscular arms as he kneeled over her. Laying back for a breath, she ran her fingers through his chest hair. There was a fear in her that they might be discovered and though she’d heard gossip about sex, she didn’t think there was time for some of the touching women talked of, not if she wanted them to go unnoticed. 

Drawing him in for another kiss, she pushed his pants down his hips far enough to free him. His member was hot and hard in her hand. There was only the slightest bit of resistance from him when she hiked her petticoat and guided him to her entrance. She clenched her teeth, more out of the expectation of pain rather than any real pain itself.

Logan admonished himself for not resisting this temptation. She was his now and he had to fight the compulsion to thrust into her, to mark her so all men would know she was his and his alone. Instead, he proceeded with as much care as he could, trying to win her over so that she’d want to remain his. 

The tension in her body subsided and he lowered himself to rest just above her. When she relaxed her legs fell further apart, allowing him to slide into the hilt. He was surprised by how wet and hot she was from so little touching. A tendril of feral pride sprang up at how her body reacted to him.

He slowly withdrew before entering her again, setting a leisurely rhythm. Her eyes remained wide, lips trembling, though he sensed no pain from her. Grinding into her, she gave a small gasp of pleasure, igniting the need to fill her. 

Unsure of what to do as her body was overwhelmed with a yearning she couldn’t grasp hold of, she pulled him in for a kiss. Her hands found a resting place along his lower back and she arched away from him, breaking the kiss as his pace increased. He trailed his mouth down her jaw and throat causing her to press her breasts into his chest. 

Her top had ridden up and the feel of his chest hair, rough on her nipples, and the friction he was creating even lower proved to be too much. He captured her lips in time to swallow her moan as she convulsed around him. Moments later she realized he was shaking as he lost his rhythm, spilling his seed deep inside her. 

They lay there, after straightening their clothes, letting the breeze cool their bodies as it stirred the tall grass around them. She was curled into his side and he thought again how this could be fatal to her reputation, to her prospects of a better life. Though he didn’t regret this, he couldn’t find it in himself to care what others might think of him. But what they might think of Marie did bother him, more than he wanted to admit.


	2. Chapter 2

The wagons rolled on; the people plodded along away from the dust that was kicked up. Rebecca was walking with some of the other women which thankfully gave Marie time to think. After two days of not traveling, she’d forgotten the way the dust from the prairie settled on everything. It wasn’t as much as before but it was still enough to cover her from head to toe. 

Logan had helped her slip into the camp the night before so that she wouldn’t be noticed. She had a new appreciation for his quiet way of walking. Following behind him, she’d found it all too easy to be silent too. It made her aware of how loud she was as she went about her daily business and she had decided to try copying his carefulness. Maybe with some practice, she could be as quiet, it might prove to be a useful skill. 

He hadn’t stopped for breakfast in the morning, though she had to admit leftover biscuits and bacon weren’t exactly a big draw when they ate it almost every morning. When he did stop it was only long enough to greet her and grab a cup of coffee before leaving. 

Sighing, she knew she was putting too much thought into it. Logan had done no courting nor expressed any feelings for her. In fact, he’d started to tell her last night that they shouldn’t lay down together. It had been her, with her head full of lustful ideas that had spread her legs for him. So much for her virtue, her mother would laugh bitterly if she knew about Marie’s indiscretion. Really she should have known better; she smiled, not regretting it in the least.

Since she first saw him, she knew he was different. The scouts had come into camp the evening after they’d crossed the Missouri. It was something cousin Nathaniel had arranged ahead of time. Everyone had crowded around the fire to hear about the trail and what would be expected. The talk had continued late into the evening long after their meal had ended and the cooking utensils were put away. She had found herself like everyone else lingering at the dying fire to get every morsel of information. 

Now she could admit it had been Logan’s presence that kept her there. He hadn’t spoken a single word to her but it was the way that he looked at her that drew her attention. The first glance was the assessing look he gave everyone. It was when their eyes bet that something deep inside her awakened for the first time. 

His eyes always met hers, not like other men who looked at her breast, or lower, first. It was as if he’d judged her and found her to be worthy. She hesitated to think it but the only word that felt right was mate. She was a worthy mate for him and that thought had excited her to no end. 

The fact that he was a scout made no difference to her. Her mother’s opinion mattered little for she only valued fancy dinner parties and extravagant dresses. Things Marie herself could admire but didn’t set store by. The opinion that mattered to her was her father’s. She knew he liked Logan, but she had as of yet not sought out his true opinion, something she should do. 

* * *

After the mid-day nooning, Marie walked with her father as he led the oxen. They were silent for some distance as she thought through what she wanted to say. Her father had been a constant, steady influence in her life as she’d grown older. A relationship she wished she shared with her mother, but that had changed some years ago when her mother became obsessed with Marie marrying well. 

Her father had filled the void and had become a trusted advisor on navigating the world. He respected her privacy, but never hesitated to let her know the harsh realities of life outside what had been a comfortable existence in the South. She was confident he would be honest with her now. 

The only stumbling block was how to start this conversation with him. She opened her mouth then closed it, wondering how not to sound desperate. This was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. What if she was wrong about Logan’s feelings and she’d simply been a pleasant diversion? 

Their attention was drawn to a rider passing the wagons. It was Logan, and he tipped his hat as he went by and she couldn’t help but watch the muscles of his back move underneath the buckskin shirt. Not until she could no longer see him did she turn back to her father. 

His face was lit up with amusement. “He’s a good man,” he said seriously. When she failed to answer he went on, “He’ll be a good provider.” 

“Papa,” she admonished, trying to divert from the fact she’d been caught staring. 

“Oh, don’t play coy, Marie,” he laughed lightly. “I have noticed the way in which you hand him his plate and cup.”

She felt the flush turn her face red in a way the day’s heat couldn’t. It had been a small secret delight for her that Logan touched her hand when she gave him his supper. His strong agile fingers brushing up against hers underneath the plate had warmed her heart. Over time, that warmth spread elsewhere as the intensity of his gaze increased. 

Once again she was left to wonder if despite her feelings that Logan had gotten what he wanted from her. That all the looks and touches had been for one purpose only and she’d fallen for it. 

Her father took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Don’t worry so my dear, he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Suddenly she was afraid her absence the other night hadn’t gone unnoticed and that maybe her father had seen Logan sneak her back to her blankets under the wagon. Surely he wouldn’t be so nonchalant about his daughter being with a man alone at night. No, her father wouldn’t have left that unchallenged if he had known.

Marie swallowed the lump in her throat. “What do you mean, Papa?” she asked. Maybe they already had an understanding or arrangement of sorts about her future. 

“When Logan looks at you, I see a man trying to make a decision.” She nodded in understanding. It was nothing formal or even spoken but something a father could see. Her father continued, “Most girls would have a bundle made up by now.”

Her father must be fairly certain to bring that up. His confidence in the situation gave her hope. Maybe everything wasn’t as one-sided as she feared. 

“Be sure when he asks,” her father said seriously. “The life he wants will be difficult.” 

It was her turn to laugh, “Starting over in Oregon isn’t?”

“It’s not the same,” he said, glancing at her. “In Oregon, you’d be with family and the hard physical labor will be done by others. With him…,” he trailed off to let her think over the rest on her own. 

She imagined that much of it would be like now with the good and bad mixed, but she would be with him and that would make all the difference. On impulse, she kissed her father on the cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”

The gentle smile she always associated with her father appeared. “Anytime, my dear.”

As Marie turned away from the wagon to walk along and think, she spied her mother. Her face was barely visible among the piled up goods but the look was unmistakable. Her mouth was set in an extreme line of disapproval, her eyes held an odd calculating feel that left Marie on edge. Unfortunately, Marie knew there was little she could say or do to change her mother’s mind about Logan. 

* * *

The next two days passed slowly for Logan. Things went on much as before with days full of activity and nights of exhausted sleep. Now however at night he wished he had Marie in his arms, to know she would be by his side the rest of his life. 

During the day he tried to keep busy, but thoughts of her continued to invade more than before. Several times he’d attempted to talk with her, yet she was never alone when he could stop. The one time he rode out to where she walked by herself, he saw the desire in her eyes and had to ride away. They needed to talk and having sexual thoughts of her wouldn’t help in a discussion. 

Everything he did during those two days made him think of how he could be doing it for her, for their home and future. In the end, there was only one thing that was proper for the society her family circulated in. He would approach her parents tomorrow and ask for her hand. 

At the nooning of the third day after the hollow, he rode in to talk. He accepted the coffee and cold salted pork, Marie’s fingers brushed his as she handed him the plate. The slightest touch from her was all he needed to harden his resolve in this pursuit, though it was best to keep this talk as private as possible. He waited impatiently, listening to the idle conversation around the small fire, biding his time. 

Logan waited again as everyone drifted away and readied their wagons to start on the trail once more. Taking the reins of his horse, he approached the D’Ancanto’s family wagon. Her parents were at the front and he could sense Marie at the back putting items away.

Letting one of his horse’s reins drag on the ground, he stepped forward, hat in hand. “Mr. D’Ancanto, Mrs. D’Ancanto, if I could have a moment of your time?” he asked, feeling more at ease than he had the right to. He supposed it was all those afternoons in the parlor at his own parent’s house practicing etiquette that relaxed him. 

“Yes, Logan, what can we do for you?” Mr. D’Ancanto replied. Though Mr. D’Ancanto was being pleasant, he would be a fool not to notice Mrs. D’Ancanto’s disinterested demeanor. 

“Sir, Ma’am, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” It wasn’t exactly like he’d practiced in his head, but it was proper enough for the circumstances. 

A broad smile erupted on Mr. D’Ancanto’s face. He was bringing his hand up to extend for Logan to shake when Mrs. D’Ancanto exploded, “No!” The shrill cry could probably be heard by any of the people in the surrounding wagons.

It sounded like something dropped in the back of the D’Ancanto wagon. From the corner of his eye, Logan saw Marie peek out around the back edge, but he didn’t turn to look at her. He had started this, and he needed to see it through to the bitter end. 

Without warning, Mrs. D’Ancanto struck him across the face. “No disreputable ruffian such as yourself is even deserving to be in the mere presence of my daughter.” Mr. D’Ancanto caught her arm before she could strike Logan a second time. 

“Logan, please accept my apologies,” Mr. D’Ancanto huffed, struggling to contain his wife’s fury.

“Sir,” Logan said stepping back and replacing his hat. He no longer felt the sting of the slap, but the wound to his pride was different. 

Grabbing the reins to his horse, he swung into the saddle. There, at the end of the wagon stood Marie, hand over her mouth. He thought he could smell the tear sliding down her cheek. Even now despite her mother’s hostility, he wanted Marie to be his. 

Turning his horse, he cantered off toward the front of the wagons, blocking out the sharp sound of Mrs. D’Ancanto’s voice. He should have known better than to ever try to step foot back into high society. Marie was worth the effort but he would not be responsible for creating a rift in the family. 

* * *

Marie felt her heart ride away with Logan. She knew her mother wasn’t pleased but with what she had just done… there was little chance of her marrying Logan. In fact, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she would not see him again. 

Her attention was drawn back to her parents. For a moment she thought her father might hit her mother however his fists remained clenched at his sides. Though when he spoke his voice held a deadly edge, one that she had never heard before. “Woman, get in that wagon or I will get a branch to switch you with and leave you here in this precise location.”

He simply walked away from her mother, even as her mother chastised him for talking to her in such a fashion. Yet when the wagon lurched forward as the oxen started her mother scrambled to get on. Only then did Marie realize that Rebecca was next to her trying to gently pull her from the scene. 

That evening the meal was fixed in silence, Marie to heartbroken to say much and her father was still angry. Her mother stayed in the wagon where no one dared to disturb her and her father refused to let anyone take her a plate of food. Back before they left the South life had always been amiable enough, and she had to wonder if that was due to her father’s easygoing nature and that life had presented few challenges to her mother. 

Marie had known her mother had high expectations for her marriage and whom she considered a suitable partner and whom Marie thought to be of good quality were two different things. In spite of that, she’d always believed they would find common ground and things would be ironed out. This though, the way her mother had treated Logan, was beyond anything she ever expected her to do and it could just be excused away as the stress of the trail. 

What little talk took place around the fire dealt with the rising storm and if the rain would last into tomorrow and her father had wandered away before he was finished. She was lost in her own thoughts and didn’t care if they had to stay put for a week because of rain. Logan hadn’t shown for supper and she couldn’t blame him, but she longed for the secret touching and the longing looks he sent her way. Apparently, her mother had successfully driven him off. Marie had never realized that something could hurt as badly as the situation today and the subsequent aftermath. 

The sky was full of dark rumbling clouds with lightning flashing in the distance. It seemed to reflect her mood perfectly. All that was needed now was a downpouring of rain. 

At the back of the wagon, she quietly pulled at her bedding trying to be purposefully silent as to not have to deal with her mother. Next to her bedding was the bundle of clothing she had put together after talking to her father the other day. Pulling it out instead, she thought she should take care of it; she doubted if she would need it now. 

The oddest sensation filled her like someone was watching her. She turned around to find Logan, some distance from the wagons, observing her. He stood there tall as ever, shoulders squared; his horse and pack animal cropping grass nearby. 

Panic rose in her, he was leaving. In the flash of light, she could see that same intense look he always had for her. When he took a step toward her, she dropped her bundle and ran to him. Afraid that he was only here to say goodbye, she drew up short, leaving the last step untaken. She desperately wanted to throw herself at him, but couldn’t bear the thought of being rejected. Again, she eyed his animals, his horse was saddled, the other loaded for travel. 

“You’re leaving,” she stated as there was no doubt in her mind.

“It’s for the best,” he replied. Reaching out he wound a stray lock of her hair around his finger. “There’s a priest at a mission up North.” This was the only offer he could make her, the only thing left for him. 

Logan wanted to tell her how he felt but his pride still hurt and he didn’t know if he could take any more damage today. Her coming to him gave him hope, as did her father’s brief declaration, not a half-hour ago as he prepared his horses. But her next words were more important than anything else.

The only answer he received was her throwing herself at him in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent. There had never been anyone in his life that he needed like he needed Marie. The tension drained from his body and he felt confident in her feelings for him. “Love you, Marie,” he mumbled. 

“I love you too,” she whispered. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”

Bending down, he brushed his lips across hers. He wished only to lose himself in her arms, but they would have miles to go before they could rest tonight. They could spare a moment so he could kiss her soft mouth, even though he knew they’d be interrupted. 

“Ahem,” came a low clearing of someone’s throat behind them. 

Marie broke the kiss knowing exactly who was behind them. She felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment at being discovered by her father. What would she tell him? Her father was still upset with her mother, would he now be disappointed with Marie herself since nothing had been settled from earlier.?

She clung to Logan, finding strength in his unyielding firmness. Turning she felt his hand reassuringly at her back and everything seemed to click into place. Staying with Logan was the right decision for her life. 

Yet to her surprise her father stood quietly with the reins of one of the family’s mares in his hand. The horse had been saddled and the bundle of clothing she’d dropped moments earlier and her bedding roll were being secured behind the saddle by her cousin Nathaniel. Rebecca was there too, adding a food packet to the saddlebags. 

Marie opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. Rebecca quickly gave her a hug as Nathaniel shook Logan’s hand. The two walked away toward their wagon when Marie’s father approached. 

“Papa, I…” Marie paused looking to the wagon where her mother would still be sulking. 

“It’s fine, Marie. Your mother will have many months yet on the trail to see the error of her way.” He pulled her into a tight hug. “She’s a stubborn woman, but she loves you.”

Stepping back, she nodded letting a tear slip down her cheek. Her father brushed it away. “There, there, my dear, none of that.”

“I love you, Papa,” she declared. 

He quietly laughed, “I’ve never doubted it. When he saw her look at the wagon again, he added, “She knows, but I will remind her.”

“Thank you,” Marie said, kissing his cheek.

“Now,” her father began eyeing Logan. “I expect you to take good care of my daughter.”

“I understand, sir,” Logan answered and Marie realized the two men must have talked at some point earlier in the evening. 

Logan couldn’t express the gratitude he felt for Mr. D’Ancanto seeking him out earlier. He’d been prepared to ride way alone, to aimlessly drift. Now though, he was laying out plans for a future with Marie. An understanding between himself and her father would make this easier for Marie too. 

“You know where to find us in Oregon?” Mr. D’Ancanto asked.

“Yes, sir. I know the place.” Logan glanced at Marie and thought he could sense her nervousness. “We’ll be visiting next year.”

“Ah, good man,” her father said, extending his hand to Logan a final time. After shaking hands, Mr. D’Acanto kissed Marie on the cheek, turning over the reins and sauntered off whistling an old favorite tune.

The thunder rolled again, grass blowing in the wind ahead of it, and Logan held the stirrup for her to mount. “We best be going.” 

He heard her heart skip a beat at the way he’d emphasized we and a large smile spread across her face. Putting her foot in the stirrup, she placed a kiss on his sideburn before swinging up into the saddle. It was an excellent sign that she was on board with a new life with him. Mounting his horse, Marie rode alongside him without a backward glance. 

They had many a mile to cover in the coming days to make it to that mission up North. Yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. Logan would use the time wisely to get to know Marie better and assure her she was in good hands and that she’d made the right choice. 


End file.
